


Toss A Coin

by littlemisstpk



Series: Witcher AU [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Atsumu is a clown, Bathtub Sex, Body Horror, Breaking Up & Making Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Sakusa is a Witcher, Semi-Public Sex, based on Netflix but isn't a complete rip-off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisstpk/pseuds/littlemisstpk
Summary: Atsumu is a highly annoying but equally proficient bard, and Kiyoomi is a deadly witcher with an image problem.A romance told through four encapsulated encounters.Featuring prompts from SakuAtsu Week 2020:Friday Tier 2: "Omi-kun, couldja try for once in yer life to not be so blunt?"Sunday Tier 2: "Omi-Omi-kun, shut yer mouth!"
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Witcher AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002258
Comments: 29
Kudos: 141
Collections: SakuAtsu Week 2020





	1. Encounter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I normally have my multichapter fics done up in advance, but this time I'm not. I wanted to get this out into the world sooner.
> 
> There's no real update schedule, as I'm writing when I can spare the brain power. This AU has taken up a whole bunch of it, but seeing as I work in the front lines of the world's current insanity, I'm hoping that seeing a little validation will help me finish sooner!
> 
> Also, basti drew this lovely piece based on the hcs I shared in the sakuatsu server, it kept me writing when things got tough. [ So good. ](https://twitter.com/andraste_/status/1249373373882343426?s=19)

Parry. Counter. Kick. Pirouette. Slash once, lean back. The motions to fighting a group of ghouls were ingrained into Kiyoomi's being just as much as the mutations that make him a Witcher, and it doesn't take much thought to bring forward the moves that mean the difference in being a good Witcher or a dead one. 

Parry. Spin slash. One ghoul down, two to go. Thrust. A sickening squelch, a mule kick backwards. Flip over second re-killed ghoul, retrieve sword. Retrieve silver sword, high horizontal slash, final ghoul head rolling away. Kiyoomi kicks the downed body of his prey to make sure that it is dead for the last time, and leans down to wipe his sword on the monster's tattered tunic before stowing it in the second scabbard on his back. 

He loads up the three bodies onto his saddle, covering them with a tarp so that he'd get less wary looks as he makes his way to town. The small nest of ghouls he had just eradicated was close enough to the outskirts and near enough to the main road that there was likely a contract out for its removal; it was just a matter of finding who held it.

"Come on, Komori," Kiyoomi grumbles as he flips the reins over the horse's head to form a lead line. While Komori could be a shit-head in his own right, he also happened to be the only living being whose company Kiyoomi actually enjoyed, and that liked the Witcher back. Holding the reins with his right hand and giving an affectionate scratch behind his left ear, "We'll get you a bath when we get into town." 

His thoughts as they walk towards town are occupied by food, lodgings, and a bath, and not necessarily in that order. A Witcher's life isn't conducive to leading a clean one, and Kiyoomi's nose wrinkles at the rust brown speckles that didn't fully come off when he wiped his hands along the tunic. Still, he's good at what he does, and there's not many of his kind left, so he barely sucks up his discomfort for the promise of coin. 

There's an inn near the outskirts, and Kiyoomi loosely wraps Komori's reins around the hitching post outside. Komori, being just enough of an asshole, scratches his cheek roughly against Kiyoomi's shoulder, but he's done it enough that the Witcher expects it from the horse. He braces against the extra weight as he reaches over himself, scratching at the star on Komori's forehead before moving towards the building. He dips his hands briefly into the horse trough--horse spit is infinitely more preferable than dried ghoul blood--and wipes the excess away before entering. 

It's just like any other inn in a middling town across the land, whether it's in the north near Cintra, Temeria or Redania, or further south close to where Nilfgaard steadily encroaches upwards, taking over the smaller kingdoms in their sprawl. Kiyoomi walks through the door, and everyone in the vicinity immediately quiets when they see him. A bard is singing on the opposite side of the common room about some implausible monster fight — he's not half bad once you disregard the lyrics — but that barely covers the hostile silence aimed in Kiyoomi's direction. 

He approaches the barkeep. "I'm looking for a meal, a room for the night, and a bath." Kiyoomi slams the majority of his coin on the counter. It's a measly amount, as people don't take to a Witcher's mercenary trade very easily, and even less to him, but the barkeep counts the amount and hands him some barely appetizing slop and likely watered down ale, along with a key tagged with a "10". Kiyoomi gives silent thanks, as beggars can't be choosers, and at least this food isn't moldy. 

He only looks up from his food as background music stops, only to be replaced with yelling back at the hecklers. Kiyoomi can hear the staleness of the bread as loaves hollowly bounce off of the bard's body, an indictment of the quality of music and entertainment. He rolls his eyes as the bard shoves the largest loaf down the front of his pants, pats it into place, and smiles proudly at the resulting bulge.

Kiyoomi is mid eye-roll when the bard scoops up the majority of the other loaves into his hands, and notices him sitting in the back of the tavern. If he hadn’t watched him stuff a sizable loaf of bread down his pants, Kiyoomi would pay the bard no mind. Instead, he ignores him as he psyches himself up for putting the stomach-churning stew in his mouth. 

He barely gets the spoon in his mouth when he feels the foot falls move in his direction. "Ya know, yer the only one who had nothin' ta say about the quality of my singin'." The bard's natural accent is mostly Cidarian noble with enough notes of other regional accents that any trained ear can tell this man has spent a long time on the road, conversing with many. 

Kiyoomi makes a face as he chokes down the food in order to answer. "You've clearly got griffons and harpies confused. Griffons don't have breasts in such volume as you described." Kiyoomi goes back to glaring at his food, as if the stare will make it taste any different. 

Kiyoomi feels the bard shift his weight from one foot to another, and he sees the ghost of a shit-eating grin appear on the other man's face with his heightened senses. 

Before he speaks up, Kiyoomi drops his spoon into the bowl and glares at the intruder to his personal time. "What is it now?" He grumbles at the unnaturally blond man, the hair colour reminding him of piss and tobacco. 

"Y'know, we could help each other out. Y'need a boost to yer image, and I need some better details for my songs." He cocks his head to the side, and narrows his eyes in appraisal. "Yer the Skinner, Kiyoomi? The name's Atsumu." 

Kiyoomi pushes the bowl of food out of the way, makes his way towards the room, and growls, "No. I'm not doing this." 

He staunchly ignores Atsumu's gaze as he stands, making his way to his room. 

As he sits in his warm pool of water, Kiyoomi can't get Atsumu's impish grin out of his head. 

* * *

Kiyoomi places the room key back on the bar in the early hours of the morning, and despite hating mornings with a passion, it was his chance to escape this shithole of a town without Atsumu noticing. Bards are known for being up at all hours of the night plying their craft, and while Kiyoomi doesn’t have a reputation for being a sociable person, especially in the morning, it's worth trying this escape. It also means giving up a chance of recovering the costs of staying at an inn, but he would find the buyer for the dead ghouls somewhere along his trip. 

What he doesn't expect is Atsumu, complete with bags under his eyes, smiling at Kiyoomi from beside Komori. Inspecting his tack, Kiyoomi kicks himself internally for making it obvious which horse was his, the ghouls still draped over the seat of his saddle. "Omi," Atsumu's voice draws out the last two syllables of his name as if he were pulling taffy, "Yer in such a rush. It makes me think yer gonna skip out on our deal." 

While Atsumu leans against the hitching post, staring at Kiyoomi with lidded eyes and a calculating gaze, Kiyoomi narrows his own. "There was no deal." 

His face only relaxes as Komori lifts his head, twisting his lips into Atsumu's hair as if he were twirling some particularly long grass in a meadow somewhere. Kiyoomi takes the reins into his right hand, and starts to make his way to the communal notice board, hoping to leave Atsumu behind. 

As he searches over the notices posted on the board, Kiyoomi indeed finds a contract for the ghouls he had killed the day before. It's difficult to find, as Atsumu noisily follows behind. Just as Kiyoomi pulls down the correct notice, Atsumu huffs out, breathlessly, "What can I do to make it work?" 

Kiyoomi sighs loudly. "You can shut up," holding out the notice. "And you can help me find this house." 

* * *

Atsumu does not shut up. He does the exact opposite. Kiyoomi fights a headache from the sheer amount of noise and bullshit escaping from the bard's mouth. It's actually astounding, Kiyoomi thinks as he tries to block out his company, that the bard keeps trying to engage him in inane conversation the entire way to the contract holder’s house, and even beyond. When Kiyoomi spots the river leading into the Valley of Flowers, he sees his chance at boring Atsumu to the point where he’ll leave of his own accord.

Kiyoomi strips Komori of his tack, and he places the saddle gently over a downed, young tree, perfect for keeping the saddle in shape. He slips the hackamore off Komori’s face, and slips on a simple rope that he keeps around just for washing the horse. He winces at the spots where the bridle has worn off the fur on the bay’s face, and mumbles an apology as he traces the spots of bare skin. “One day, Komori, we’ll have a home and you won’t have to live in your saddle anymore.” Komori simply scratches under his chin along Kiyoomi’s shoulder blades.

Pointing at the pile of goods, Kiyoomi barks at Atsumu. “You, keep watch. I’m expecting you to do something useful this trip.”

Atsumu quirks his eyebrow upward. “Like giving yer horse a bath?”

“Baths are a gift from the heavens, and keeps people from getting sick,” Kiyoomi states simply. “They are only behind food in terms of importance.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes as Kiyoomi rolls up his pant legs, his long sleeves, and leads the horse into the river. It’s not a full bath involving soap as Kiyoomi would prefer, but even a simple wipe down using cool river water is enough to make both him and the horse feel better. It would do something about the saddle shaped sweat mark on Komori’s back, and the lingering pang of guilt leaves him as the bay brown turns chocolate in the river.

“I didn’t think witchers were capable of human emotions.” Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi with an inscrutable expression, and he guesses whether the bard is jealous or genuinely perplexed.

Kiyoomi wipes his rag across Komori’s face. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, and you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you’d be hard to the world too.” He leans down to dip the rag in the running water. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel.”

Komori swishes his tail in a wide arc, getting both Atsumu and Kiyoomi in the spray. Kiyoomi laughs as Atsumu curses getting his clothing wet, but he goes silent as an unfamiliar laughter enters the mix. He quickly scans the area, digging into the enhanced senses his mutations provide him, and the ghost of something moving quickly through the tree line behind Atsumu is nearly imperceptible.

“Yer horse is an asshole,” Atsumu begins, but Kiyoomi quickly cuts off the ensuing train of thought with a glare.

“Quiet,” he grumbles as a command. Kiyoomi listens for the movement, tries to smell something that is not Komori or Atsumu (even though the latter currently has a very strong smell), but he nearly doesn’t see the shock of red hair before whatever has come has knocked Atsumu out and steals him away with a taunting snicker.

Kiyoomi leads Komori out of the river, and tacks up efficiently. Rather than tracking from horseback, he leads from the ground, following Atsumu’s scent easily. Where he was cursing Atsumu’s lack of hygiene a half hour before, it was coming in handy now: if the scent trail were any more distinct, it would have magical arrows pointing, “follow this direction” visibly pointing the way. 

“Fucking bard.”

* * *

It takes about an hour of tracking, moving half speed through forest and canyon, before Kiyoomi sees the elven city in decline in the distance. As strong as Atsumu’s smell is, it can’t completely overpower the scent of his captor, who is decidedly not an elf. Still, it’s clear what direction they took, so Kiyoomi mounts Komori and kicks him into a canter. He curses the bard with every studded beat the horse makes.

As helpful as his witcher senses are, they become next to useless as soon as Komori goes faster than a trot. Kiyoomi briefly senses the shockwaves of an enemy approaching before he’s knocked off the horse’s back and everything goes dark.

When Kiyoomi comes to, his hands are tied, and he’s bound to someone close to his own size, back to back. His nose fills with Atsumu’s scent, and a quick peek over his shoulder gives him a glimpse of Atsumu’s maroon doublet. While he had completed his primary task in finding out where Atsumu had gone, it is under less-than-ideal circumstances. Kiyoomi curses under his breath as he uses his witcher-enhanced flexibility to contort his hand, freeing himself from his bonds.

He no sooner has his hands free before his captors return. A proud elf enters the cramped room, and he barely glances down at the pair tied together on the dusty floor beneath him. He’s followed by an elf with shocking red hair: the same red hair that Kiyoomi saw at the river, and who did not smell like the average elf. A doppler, Kiyoomi thinks. Instead of revealing his thoughts, he stares the pair down.

“Oh, Wakatoshi, it looks like we have some feisty ones.” The red haired doppler drawls in such a way that would break most men’s composure, the sing-song quality of his voice grating on nerves. It very nearly works on Kiyoomi, but he transfers his attention to the elf instead.

Wakatoshi appraises Kiyoomi, then Atsumu, until he finally turns to the doppler. “Satori, why would you bring a witcher here? I only wanted a bard so that I can commission a song to put us in a better light.”

“I didn’t know that the witcher would follow us here!” Satori whines back.

Whatever scathing reply Wakatoshi had opened his mouth to chastise Satori is cut off by Atsumu mumbling out loud, “But ‘Samu, that’s my tuna.”

Kiyoomi shakes his arms to forcibly jostle Atsumu awake. “Well, whadda sight ta wake up to,” Atsumu snarks. It’s nearly a convincing performance, but Kiyoomi is not fooled--Atsumu’s heart is beating frantically within his chest, and the tremor he manages to keep from his voice escapes through minute quivers in his biceps.

So the bard does have a sense of self preservation.

Wakatoshi walks around the perimeter of the room, until he’s face-to-face with Atsumu. Kiyoomi twists his head around to find the elven leader tipping back his head with a haughty air. “I have a proposition for you, bard.” Wakatoshi doesn’t budge in his countenance, and his general immovability sets Kiyoomi on edge.

“And if I refuse?” Kiyoomi is almost impressed at how steady Atsumu’s voice stays through all the physical signs of fear.

It’s only when Kiyoomi smells and feels the growing patch of damp that he realizes just how deep Atsumu’s fear goes, and he no longer hides the fact he can get free at any moment. With a quick duck, Kiyoomi quickly frees himself from the ropes and stands. “Well, since I’m clearly not needed, and he’s not doing it, I’m going to be on my way.” He pulls Atsumu to his feet, and pulls him along as he makes his way through the door.

Satori makes a ruckus as Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu out of the room, but seeing as Wakatoshi is looking on with amused interest. At least, that's Kiyoomi's best guess, since the elven leader has an even less expressive face than his own. 

Atsumu looks back at Kiyoomi even as he moves, and quirks his lips into a sly smile. "Ya mustof quite the pair to pull somethin' like that on royalty." He glances down to accentuate his point. 

Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu forward. "At least I know mine are real, and not just stuffed with food." Atsumu only laughs. 

The crumbling elven city still has some distant splendour in its mossy stone, but its age and level of disrepair makes Kiyoomi’s trek to the stables fraught with danger. He’s interrupted by Wakatoshi’s long, graceful steps, until the elf is just a body-length between Kiyoomi and Komori. “So there’s no way for the bard to help us?”

Kiyoomi purses his lips. “Well, if the elves weren’t so obstinate--”

“I believe this bard can speak fer himself.” Atsumu looks on with fury and indignation. “Ya both have an image problem. Let us go, and I’ll write somethin’ flatterin’ fer both of ya.”

Wakatoshi looks between them; Atsumu has his chin in the air, defiant as always. Kiyoomi simply stares back with tired, dead eyes. It’s at least a full minute of a silent standoff before Wakatoshi steps back and bows. The way out is clear, and Kiyoomi nods back in acknowledgement.

With the elven city behind them, Kiyoomi finally breaks the silence. “Atsumu, you are in dire need of a bath. You were far too easy to track. I bet even the average human nose could smell you from several paces away.”

Atsumu spins around, offended look on his face. “Omi, couldja try fer once in yer life not to be so blunt?”

Kiyoomi ignores him, and instead scans the landscape for a river or a lake. The only one visible is at the edge of the horizon, and Kiyoomi recognizes it as the river that he bathed Komori in earlier. “There, I found a spot.” He points to where their sedate ride turned turbulent.

Atsumu finally sees where Kiyoomi is pointing, and narrows his eyes at the witcher. “What’s in it fer me? It looks like I’m going to be riskin’ some serious shrinkage in that river.”

Kiyoomi sighs. “I’ll actually let you ride Komori on the way back to town?”

“Deal!” Atsumu excitedly moves towards the horse, and gets ready to mount. 

Instead, Kiyoomi pushes the bard away. “After the bath.”

Atsumu capitulates, but he still smiles as he takes out his lute, absently strumming a tune.

Kiyoomi watches the horizon for any threats, but he soon stops lying to himself and watches Atsumu with a smile instead.


	2. Encounter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu needs a bodyguard, and tricks Kiyoomi to go to the party with him.
> 
> Aka, the section of the fic that earns its rating. 
> 
> Written for the Sunday Tier 2 prompt of Sakuatsu week 2020: "Omi-omi-kun, shut yer mouth!"

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what kind of luck brought him to this point, but he can only thank whatever gods or powerful extraplanar creatures that do exist that Atsumu is not here to witness this embarrassment. The arachas’ flowery mouth opens to an impossible size, and before Kiyoomi can react at even his superhuman, witcher-mutated level, he finds himself horribly cramped, and in a dark spot that even his senses can’t penetrate. That's not even mentioning the horrible stench of his current location.

It’s a task to free both swords from their scabbards, but the mutation that accentuates his natural flexibility from his human days gives him the opportunity to pull both of them free in the confined space. The silver one slices better than the steel, and the pair of weapons open a hole in the carapace, allowing Kiyoomi to free himself from the humiliating trap. The gigantic carcass lays off to the side, and as much as Kiyoomi wants to lay on the ground and recover from the effort of freeing himself from the inside of a bug, he knows the nearest town isn’t far, and towns mean baths.

Kiyoomi finds Komori grazing just off the road, not far from where he left him. He looks longingly at the saddle, which will remain empty for the entire walk in; there is no way that Kiyoomi is going to sully his saddle with oversized bug entrails. Leather and excess moisture are never a good mix. 

Komori follows easily, but he leans his head in close to have his body be a half-step further away from Kiyoomi. He's holding the reins with very little slack more out of habit than anything, something informed by distant memories of the horse as a shit-head colt and needing far more stringent measures on his bridle than his current hackamore. The Witcher loosens his grip until he's holding just the ends of the reins in his right hand. "I don't blame you, buddy," he barely grumbles. "I don't want to be near me either." 

When they finally make it to Temeria an hour later, Kiyoomi breathes a sigh of relief as he sees the inn close to the outskirts--for once, something has gone his way. He ties Komori to the hitching post, scrapes the worst remnants of bug guts stuck to him against the wooden water trough, and moves to enter the building. 

The reception Kiyoomi receives is the typical one. There's a bustle of activity that abruptly stops as soon as he walks through the door. The main difference is, this time he's greeted by a godawful shit-eating grin and a hideously coloured haircut. 

"It's Omi-omi! He can clear this up. This lovely gentleman here--" Atsumu motions towards the brute of a man to his left-- "believes that basilisks turn people ta stone with their gaze, then slither off into the night." Atsumu animates his point with an expressive face and some simple hand gestures, and it's enough to make Kiyoomi's heart skip a beat. 

He sighs. "Basilisks have wings and legs. They don't slither." With a final glare at Atsumu, Kiyoomi approaches the barkeep, hands over a small fraction of his coins, and mutters, "A room, a meal, and a bath." He’s able to afford a nicer room than he had in the past, and it eats less of his finances each time. Business has been going well.

The barkeep hands over a key with a simple tag marking, '15', as he appraises Kiyoomi's appearance. "I hope not in that order." 

Kiyoomi huffs out a laugh as he makes his way towards the room. His heightened senses feel the presence of someone following, keeping pace exactly two footfalls behind him. The lingering smell of lemons and lye wafts from this person tracking him, and Kiyoomi grumbles without looking back. 

"Atsumu, I'm going to have a peaceful, quiet bath. Alone."

Kiyoomi sees the ghost of Atsumu's hands raise in defense without having to turn around. "I need a favour, ya need a bath, I just figured I would multitask and ask when yer most agreeable."

Kiyoomi can't fault Atsumu for his logic. As he unlocks the door, Atsumu slips by him as quickly as possible without actually touching any of his clothing. 

The bard starts the work of filling the tub, heating the water, and laying out some fresh clothes for Kiyoomi. It only takes a glance to see that it's a jerkin and breeches, far more fancy than what Kiyoomi typically can afford, even if the colours are understated. Before he protests the choice of clothing, Atsumu pushes Kiyoomi towards the tub, guided solely by the bard's outstretched index fingers poking him in the shoulderblades. 

Wordlessly following Atsumu's silent command, Kiyoomi peels the dirty clothing from his body. He grimaces as the drying entrails stick to his skin, pulling at the countless scars covering his torso. It's not quite as gross as the feeling coiling in his gut as he watches Atsumu rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, noting how the shirt billows out past suspenders, his breeches fitting extremely well and leaving little to the imagination. Kiyoomi is forced to enter the tub quickly, because even Atsumu's hair, reminiscent of persistent and obnoxious spring flowers, catches the candlelight in the room and reflects the bard's handsome features. 

He's barely settled in the tub when he gets attacked by a full bucket of hot water. After he spits the water from his mouth and wipes the bulk of it from his face, Kiyoomi glares at Atsumu, who is grinning like the fool he is. The bard rests his bare elbows on the rim of the wooden tub, and there's an edge to his smile that makes Kiyoomi's body thrum with excitement, but he settles for staring Atsumu down. Now that the bard's facing Kiyoomi, the Witcher notices that the first few buttons in Atsumu's undershirt are open, revealing hints of dark hair on his chest. The way he's crouching only accentuates the bulge in his breeches, until Kiyoomi has to rest his feet on the bottom of the tub, and casually rest his wrists on his knees in an attempt to hide his growing problem from the man staring him down. 

Instead, Atsumu's smile takes a predatory turn, and Kiyoomi doesn't understand until Atsumu stands up, grabs the bucket, and gently pours the water over his head. Atsumu massages Kiyoomi's scalp, and it's good enough that he has to choke down the moan that threatens to escape his lips. Instead, Kiyoomi relaxes into the touch, especially as Atsumu hums the semi-familiar tune partly responsible for him being able to afford this relatively nice room. 

He feels Atsumu's breath behind his ear before he hears the Cidarian-tinged accent tease him. "Omi, I didn't realize that yer enjoyin' this as much as y'are." 

Kiyoomi looks down, hiding the fact he's checking his own excitement by attempting to crack his neck. Sure enough, his traitor of a cock is obviously aroused, taunting him. That fucking fucker. 

Nonchalance and deflection it is.

"You'd be excited too if you finally could get rid of arachas entrails after being swallowed whole." 

Atsumu steadies himself with his hands on Kiyoomi's shoulders, and he feels Atsumu's forehead shake with silent mirth as he rests his head at the base of his neck. 

"You mentioned a favour," Kiyoomi grumbles a little louder than necessary, and he feels Atsumu immediately stop his laughing. "I'd like to know what I'm about to say no to." 

Atsumu slides forward, draping his arms over Kiyoomi's shoulders so that his hands are close enough to clearly see lute calluses along the fingerpads of his left hand. "Ya see," Atsumu purrs, hitting the exact right tone to make Kiyoomi's dick twitch, "there's this party in Temeria. Something something, the adopted prince's comin' of age. There'll be food, wine, and I'm sure there'll even be a woman into yer brand of tall, dark and bitch-faced." 

"Then why do you need me?"

Atsumu has the gall to sound sheepish. "I mighta pissed offa few of the nobles. I hafta protect my pretty face!" 

Kiyoomi turns his head to glare at the bard, and instead of what was intended as a withering glare, it lands as a petulant pout. Atsumu's grin widens, and there's a twinkle in his eyes--Kiyoomi realizes too late that his face is far too close to Atsumu's. It would only take a small stretch more to capture Atsumu's lips with his own, but before he can even think to act on that thought, Atsumu drags his hands along Kiyoomi's body. The bard's left hand grips his bicep, and his right takes Kiyoomi's girth in its grip. 

Kiyoomi bucks his hips upward in an attempt to get friction, and Atsumu's breathy laugh sets his skin on fire. "Yes," Kiyoomi sighs, barely more than a whisper. He throws his head back to rest it on Atsumu's shoulder, letting his downstairs brain do all the thinking for once.

He doesn't have long to enjoy the sensations of Atsumu's hand running over his length in the hot water before it's cruelly taken away. Atsumu places a quick kiss onto Kiyoomi's cheek. "Omi, yer a gem." There's some pressure on his shoulders as Atsumu uses him as a support to stand up and move towards the door. "If we leave in half an hour, we can be fashionably late." 

With a bright, smug smile, Atsumu leaves and closes the door behind him.

Kiyoomi stares down at his cock, gobsmacked at the turn of events. 

It stares back with a smugness that reminds him of Atsumu. 

"Fuck," he declares to a now-empty room. 

* * *

Kiyoomi pulls at the hem of his borrowed clothing, which is slightly too short in the front for his liking, and shows off more of his wrists than he would otherwise. 

"I can't move in this shit," he swears as he does a tentative squat, stretching the fabric to its limits well before his ass is level with his knees. 

Atsumu takes his time looking him over, and declares, "I don't see a problem with it. Ya look great." 

Kiyoomi gives him his best glare, but it's wasted as Atsumu hefts his lute so that its neck rests on his left shoulder and the body trails behind him, and enters the main hall with a swagger. 

A Temerian royal party means it's a raucous one. King Koutarou is an exuberant personality, exactly the kind of person that Kiyoomi hates being around. The battle-focused king isn't wearing his normal suit of armour, and instead is wearing a tunic of white and gold brocade in the kingdom crest. Standing a step behind him and to his right is his Brotherhood-assigned sorcerer, Keiji, whose impassive expression shows him as someone with whom Kiyoomi can more easily get along. 

At strummed lute strings, Kiyoomi looks across the room to where Atsumu finds some other bards who clearly had the same idea. It's interesting to watch how the musicians go from being singular, enterprising individuals to a cohesive group, but all of them gradually add on to a standard party song, which is a rousing success. As his fingers flit across the fingerboard, an infectious smile grows across Atsumu's face. Despite his best efforts to stay cranky, Kiyoomi's mouth quirks upward in amusement. 

It doesn't take long for the princeling of honour to start to dance. In a flash of black, gold, and orange, Prince Shouyou weaves through the dancing crowd, spinning people and energizing the dancefloor with his presence. He is slender compared to his adoptive father, but then again, Koutarou has broad enough shoulders to metaphorically hide an entire village. It’s easy to see why his populace is at ease with him at the helm. 

After a time, Shouyou starts panting for air, and Atsumu leaves the group where he had been singing to go grab himself a drink. From across the hall, Kiyoomi can't discern what the two talk about as they sip at ale. He tries to tell himself that where Atsumu decides to dip his dick is none of his business, but Kiyoomi’s own twitches with jealousy. The stunt with the bathtub is not one that is easily forgotten, and he didn’t fully satisfy himself before getting dressed. His feet move him in the direction of the bard and prince before his brain can fully think things through.

Just as Kiyoomi gets within earshot, he wishes he could tune out the blathering nonsense coming from Atsumu's mouth. Instead, he downs a full goblet of wine in a single gulp, as if he were drinking the kind of moonshine that burns the veins with Iizuna in Kaer Morhen before they underwent their mutations. 

"Is it true that the elven King was looking for you specifically?" Shouyou's eyes glitter with the possibility of a good story. Kiyoomi takes the opportunity to refill his goblet. 

"Yep!" Atsumu preens in the attention. "As scary as't was, it did feel good that my skills were needed." 

Kiyoomi snorts into his wine. "He was so scared he wet himself." 

Atsumu's eyes widen with realization at how close the Witcher is standing to the conversation, and Kiyoomi revels in how his limbs shake with fury. "Omi-omi, shut yer mouth." 

Shouyou cackles at this new tidbit of information, and doesn't watch as Atsumu slinks away. 

Kiyoomi is used to having to hunt for food, and while it's not his favourite activity in the world, it is something he had to become good at in order to survive. Atsumu scans the crowd as he makes his way to the opposite side of the room. Watching him weave his way through the crowd is not unlike watching an injured stag, proud enough to hide the injury from a predator, but skittish enough to run away at a moment's notice. 

Most predators are not as lethal as Kiyoomi. 

He gives Atsumu a head start, watching as he mingles effortlessly through the room. By the time Atsumu makes it to the food table on the opposite side of the hall, the tension leaves his stride, and the bard laughs at one of the nobles' likely-unfunny jokes. 

The track Kiyoomi follows is less direct, but Atsumu appears unaware that he's being followed. It allows Kiyoomi to approach the opposite side of the food table, and listen to Atsumu's conversation as he peruses a meat platter. 

He hardly has enough time to pick over the barely-touched platter before Atsumu grabs Kiyoomi's arm and drags him off to the side of the ballroom. "What the hell are ya doin'?" Atsumu hisses at him, puffing himself up as if he were to pose an actual threat to the Witcher. 

Kiyoomi looks down at where Atsumu is gripping tightly at his bicep. He has a little bit of height on the bard, and it only takes Kiyoomi squaring his shoulders and leaning into Atsumu's space for him to hear a tell-tale hitched breath. "If you knew how to finish what you started," Kiyoomi's lips nearly graze Atsumu's ear, "then you wouldn't have to be this frustrated." 

Kiyoomi shakes off the grip and leans back against the wall in his own form of a challenge. Atsumu's flushed cheeks highlight his own impotent fury, and it's a sight that Kiyoomi can't get enough of. It's hilarious as emotions and thoughts flit across Atsumu's face as clearly as if he were to speak them aloud, until it finally lands somewhere close to a realization. The tension drains from Atsumu's body as a hungry, crooked smile takes over his face, and he approaches Kiyoomi with just enough of a swagger that he can feel his dick stir at the bard's proximity. 

Before Atsumu can pin him fully against the wall, Kiyoomi spins him around so that he can march him straight out of the ballroom. "Keep moving until I tell you to stop," Kiyoomi says, just loud enough for the bard to make it out over the din of the party. For the first time since Kiyoomi met him, Atsumu is cheerfully obedient, and he steers him with a hand between his shoulder blades down a random deserted corridor. 

"D'you have any idea where yer goin'?" Atsumu turns to look behind him, and manages to make eye contact without tripping over his feet. 

Kiyoomi gives an extra push. "Nope." With a little bit of extra pressure, he veers Atsumu to the left fork of the intersection. "Just need somewhere kind of private."

Atsumu reaches behind him, grabs the hand Kiyoomi uses to push him forward, and starts power walking through the castle. It's at a quick pace through unfamiliar surroundings, and Kiyoomi himself is utterly lost in the bowels of the castle. When Atsumu finally stops, it's in a nondescript tunnel, nestled in a shadowy area in between two torches. It's a perfect spot for a semi-public tryst; there's just enough light to see that someone is having fun, but not enough to see who it is at a glance. 

He pulls Kiyoomi by the jerkin until their lips meet, and it ignites a hunger only briefly awakened in the bathtub. He pushes Atsumu against the rough-hewn wall, resting a forearm beside the bard's head to brace himself, and using his other hand to bring their hips closer together. He's greeted with an appreciative sigh at the slight friction between layers of clothing. 

Atsumu's hands quickly find the ties to Kiyoomi's breeches, and if the witcher could spare any extra brainpower, he would be impressed with how Atsumu unlaces the offending article clothing without sacrificing any skill against his mouth. As it is, Kiyoomi is only capable of growling into Atsumu's mouth as he frees his cock. 

Miraculously, Kiyoomi follows suit with very little fumbling, and he takes Atsumu's cock in his hand. The heaviness of the flesh in his grip tells Kiyoomi that Atsumu's protests at his advances were not completely true, but that some part of him likes the humiliation and the chase. With a stroke, Kiyoomi plays his own instrument, and Atsumu's wordless sounds echo through the abandoned tunnel. 

Atsumu reaches into his jacket, and pulls out a small bottle. Kiyoomi snatches it out of his grip, and quickly sniffs the contents. The edges around the wax seal are slick, and the liquid itself has no identifying odour, so it's not a difficult guess that it's not a poison. The lascivious look on Atsumu's face confirms this theory, and Kiyoomi detaches himself from the bard. 

"Turn around." Kiyoomi stands to his full height, and while it is not that much taller than Atsumu, it's enough that Atsumu complies without too much talking back as he stashes the bottle in its temporary home in one of the jerkin's pockets. 

"Hmmm, Omi, ya sure know how ta take control of a situation." 

Kiyoomi hooks his fingers under the waistband of Atsumu's breeches. "And you need to be punished for being a little shit." He over enunciates the 't', letting the puff of air blow into Atsumu's ear, disturbing the blond hair grazing the top of it. 

He had planned to take his time, torture Atsumu in the way Atsumu had tortured him all night, but as he drops the bard's breeches to the ground, Kiyoomi is overcome with a wave of impatience. He drops his own shortly after. Freeing the bottle from where he had stashed it, Kiyoomi pours a liberal amount over his fingers, and has to suppress a shudder as he strokes over his entire length. 

Kiyoomi rests his clean hand on the stone wall beside Atsumu's head, and he leans in to growl, "Squeeze your legs together." 

It's clear that Atsumu can follow directions if it directly benefits him, and as Kiyoomi pushes into the tightness of muscled thighs, his eyes roll back into his skull. He has to steady his forehead on the sweaty nape of Atsumu's neck, but as he leans more of his weight on the hand supporting him along the wall, his hand hovers over Atsumu's cock, poised to take it in hand. 

There's not that much of a height difference between Kiyoomi and Atsumu, but it's just enough that they can feel it in the best way in this position. Kiyoomi's cock catches Atsumu's ball sack with little effort, which makes the bard tense ever so slightly with each drag, as he lets out a half moan each time. He wraps his free, still-slick hand around Atsumu's cock, and the bard sings with pleasure. 

Kiyoomi's hand moves in time with his hips, and the delicious sounds that Atsumu makes the pressure in his groin grow until it is nearly unbearable. Judging from the frequency of Atsumu's cries and how tight his balls are to his body, they are in a similar enough position. Kiyoomi dips his head, finding the junction between the base of Atsumu's neck and his shoulder, and bites down as he comes between the bard's legs. 

Between a final squeeze around his cock and the strong bite to his neck, Atsumu comes with a cry. A few spurts don't paint the stone wall in front of them, but instead covers Kiyoomi's hand. He takes the opportunity to wipe the worst of it on the wall as they separate. 

It doesn't take long for Kiyoomi to tidy himself up enough to pull his breeches back on, and he starts to make his way towards where he thinks the castle exit lays. 

"Hold on!" Atsumu tries to hop forward and pull his own breeches on at the same time. "Where'ya goin'?" 

"Back to the inn. I want to get some actual rest tonight." 

Atsumu, finally with the breeches up but still open in the front, catches up to Kiyoomi rather quickly. "I have ideas! Good ones, that would be far more comfortable in a bed." 

Kiyoomi hums in contemplation. "I think I can deal with that." 

Atsumu smiles as he hastily laces his clothing together, chattering Kiyoomi's ear off the entire time. 

By the time morning breaks, Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu sleeps in the bed they shared, covered in bite marks and bruises from fingers, knowing he has his own fair share of tangible reminders littering his own skin. 

With a single look back, he leaves the bard in the warm morning sun. 


	3. Encounter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyoomi deals with the aftermath of a fallen kingdom with Atsumu's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated tags! Please keep them in mind when you read on!

Every time that Kiyoomi closes his eyes, he sees Cidaris on fire. It seems like kingdoms rise and fall just as quickly as the sun rises and sets each day, but the nightmares tattooed across the backs of his eyelids are especially distressing, as he swears he saw Atsumu burn that day, two months ago. If it wasn't the bard, it was likely a doppler who hadn't studied him in quite some time, because they had everything but the sickeningly yellow hair down to a science. 

It's how he finds himself on the edge of a bog on the outskirts of Redania, readying his steel sword to fight some foglers. They're normally so easy for Kiyoomi to fight that he can do it with his eyes closed and half asleep, but after months of being lucky to even get a single hour of good sleep per night, his reflexes have dulled to that of a normal human. His swings are a half second too late, and his normally precise cuts swing ever so slightly too wide. It's an all around fuck-up, and one of the foglers gets through his normally impeccable defenses to hit him in the solar plexus. 

“I thought you were better than this, Omi!” Atsumu’s cheery voice cuts through the mist. In a fit of spite, Kiyoomi cuts down the two foglers threatening to surround him. He spits out the blood that pooled in his mouth and turns towards him. His hair is styled differently, and reminds Kiyoomi of sunlight cutting through the swamp mist. 

"Shut up, asswipe." Kiyoomi turns back to glare at the bard, and rolls his eyes at Atsumu's disgusted muttering about walking into a bog. 

Atsumu's level of disgust isn't enough to fully stop him from approaching Kiyoomi. Instead, he removes his boots and rolls up his breeches to avoid getting his clothing wet from the murky water. His steps are comically high, and it's a heartening sight to see. 

"Atsumu." Uttering his name releases the anxious tension keeping Kiyoomi upright and sleepless. He stumbles forward, and Atsumu barely catches him in time. 

"How long have you been awake?" The circles surrounding his eyes must be dark indeed if Atsumu goes to fatigue first rather than the far more likely injury as the cause for his sluggishness. "You need a nap." 

"Sleep is for the weak." Kiyoomi tries to push off Atsumu's arms, but the adrenaline has already left his body, and he sinks further into the bard's embrace. Instead, Atsumu drags the Witcher back to the road where Komori waits, chewing on some roadside weeds. 

It takes all of Atsumu's strength just to hoist Kiyoomi face-first over the saddle, as if he were a giant bag of uncooperative flour to be delivered to the baker's. His limbs dangle off either side of Komori's back, like a prize Atsumu had won at a fair. Despite Kiyoomi wanting to fight back, he's instead mesmerized by the sway of Komori's gait and the look of rocks, weeds and worn down ruts from wagon wheels moving through his vision, all while Atsumu's voice soothes him to near-sleep.

Before Kiyoomi can process the passage of time, the road turns from a barely used dirt path into something somewhat paved, and Atsumu takes him to the nearest Inn. Kiyoomi is barely aware of how his body moves, as if he had drank too much liquor and his mutated body couldn't clear the poison at all. 

The last thing he remembers before succumbing to the soft mattress is a Cidarian voice whispering, "Sleep." 

* * *

Kiyoomi leans back into Atsumu's lap, and he looks over the Kaer Morhen valley at the northern edge of where the Kaedwen royals hold jurisdiction. It's a little patch of godforsaken land that no king in his right mind would want to control due to the influence of Witchers of several disciplines setting aside their differences for the sake of training and mutating the young ones to replenish their ranks. It's also how Kiyoomi knows that he is actively dreaming. 

His hair is shorter, the greasy curls cut short, washed and freed so that Atsumu can run his fingers through Kiyoomi's locks easily as he lays his head in the bard's lap. Atsumu is humming an unfamiliar tune, and the few words that do leave his lips are about the reclamation of the Witcher homeland close to the tree line. Kiyoomi elbows Atsumu in the ribs whenever his lyrics stray too close to the truth; his safety is in the valley being forgotten by those in power. Instead, he looks upwards, where Atsumu's face eclipses the sun, until a halo of blond hair is bright enough to obscure his face. 

The Witcher turns his head, and watches as Komori grazes in a paddock below. His ribs aren't visible, the years of living on the road finally erased from his body. He's free to become a spoiled, fat horse, not required to work as hard as he used to. His promises of comfort aren't just a balm to soothe a guilty mind during troubled times, but in this dream world, are as real as the blood lazily coursing through his body. 

For once in Kiyoomi's too-long life, he's happy.

Just as a contented smile crosses his face, the back of his head grows hot, and Kiyoomi sits up quickly. Atsumu's tunic has caught fire, and the Witcher shuffles backwards in fear as the flames spread upwards, until the bard is engulfed in them. 

Only it's not-Atsumu in front of him, and it's the same fearful expression on his face, his neat, black hair burning as his face bubbles under the heat of the magic-fed fire. 

He reaches out, whimpering, "Skinner--" 

* * *

Kiyoomi wakes with a start. The gross, sweaty film still covers his body, and as soon as he wipes it off his arm, his body replaces it. He wrinkles his nose at the grossness of how his body functions, and curses the nightmares that have plagued him for months. 

Unlike before, there's the weight of another person in the surprisingly plush bed. The smell of lemons and lye waft around him, and Kiyoomi smiles at the familiarity. "How long was I out?" 

"Nearly a day." There's a small pause before Atsumu starts again. "I mean, yer costin' me a fair chunk of coin here. I was expectin' a night, maybe some 'a the morning, but this?" Atsumu huffs a disbelieving laugh. 

"I didn't ask to be put into the honeymoon suite." There's a small amount of teasing in Kiyoomi's voice as he turns around to face the bard. 

Atsumu's eyes are sunken in, as if he could do with sleeping for a full week himself, but there's life within them that Kiyoomi relishes. Before he can stop himself, he reaches over, and pulls Atsumu into a tender, but passionate kiss. 

When they break apart, Kiyoomi rests his forehead in the crook of Atsumu’s neck, taking in his scent in order to remind himself that he is in reality, and that his nightmares aren't based in truth. It's not as pungent or as forceful as that time with the elves, but it's still strong enough to ground Kiyoomi into the moment.

"Yer havin' nightmares 'bout me." Atsumu's voice is as flat as if he were stating that the sky was blue. 

Kiyoomi inhales Atsumu's scent again. "Two months of unsettling nightmares where you died in front of my eyes." He pulls Atsumu closer, until their bodies are flush. "I need to feel that you are real."

There's a flash of understanding, and Atsumu pushes Kiyoomi into the bed. The last time they saw each other, Kiyoomi had taken the lead in their animalistic, frantic coupling, riding the high of potentially getting caught by Temerian guards after a night full of a very public, teasing mating dance. This time, Kiyoomi sits back and lets Atsumu guide the way in almost-tenderness. 

Almost. 

Atsumu's fingers curl into Kiyoomi's side until it is just a shade on the side of painful, all while he kisses with too much teeth. Kiyoomi answers with a tug on Atsumu's hair, until the bard gives a shuddering moan and cants his hips so that their erections rub together. He groans at the sensation, spreading his legs in order to invite Atsumu closer. 

For all the times that Atsumu acts like a dumbass, when it comes to perceiving people, he is scarily competent. A wolfish smile graces his face at Kiyoomi's silent invitation. He reaches over to the nightstand, and pulls out a familiar vial. Kiyoomi doesn't need to sniff it for poison, or test the contents within for an oily texture; it looks exactly the same as the one he used in Temeria and his heart skips a beat at the thought of more. 

As Atsumu spreads some of it on his fingers, Kiyoomi spreads his legs in invitation, letting his knees effortlessly hit the bedsheets in a split. 

"How're you so flexible?" Atsumu softly mutters, as he whimpers and descends onto the Witcher. He takes his lips roughly, but Kiyoomi doesn't give him a soft reprieve, nibbling sharply at Atsumu's lips to draw out even more delicious sounds as the bard thrusts into him. 

Atsumu's slick hand goes to circle Kiyoomi's waiting hole, but the Witcher grabs his wrist to stop him. "I want to feel it. I don't want to wait." He guides Atsumu's hand to the bard's own cock, brushing the slick surface against it to make his point abundantly clear. 

"'M prob'ly not gonna last." The bard takes a deep breath, and Kiyoomi feels the blunt head of his cock against his hole. Atsumu pushes in, and the Witchers limbs ignite with pleasure. 

It's just on the wrong side of painful, but it's exactly what Kiyoomi wanted. It's a real cock impaling him, that's Atsumu's back he's scratching a deep gouge into, and no figment of his nightmares would be uttering such a litany of wonderfully creative curses into his ear. 

It's simultaneously too short of a time and too long before Atsumu is buried to the hilt within Kiyoomi. At the bard's pause, Kiyoomi pushes downwards, clenching his hole as he does. Atsumu's resulting shudder pushes him slightly further into Kiyoomi, even as the bard collapses onto his forearms,

Kiyoomi wraps his legs around Atsumu, using his feet to urge Atsumu even deeper, and to take the sledgehammer sized hint that the Witcher is giving him. By the time Atsumu starts to move, Kiyoomi growls, "Fucking finally." 

That earns him a particularly sharp thrust, and it's exactly what he wants. 

Atsumu moves within him in a rhythm that makes Kiyoomi's skin nearly bubble from the inside. There's something missing though, and Kiyoomi takes Atsumu's still-slick hand, guiding it down to his neglected cock. Even though it's beyond Atsumu's current capability to move both his hand and his hips at the same time, Kiyoomi fucks upwards to roughly match what Atsumu had started. 

The sensations are enough to overwhelm Kiyoomi's senses. His own thrusts into Atsumu's grip makes it so that Atsumu has easier access to that spot within him that sends lightning throughout his body at each insistent stroke. 

Their rhythm breaks as Atsumu's hips stutter, and fills Kiyoomi with the molten ropes of release. Kiyoomi soon follows, biting down on Atsumu's shoulder, causing the bard to collapse to the side. 

Normally, Kiyoomi would almost rush to wipe the cum and grime off his body after a good fucking. Instead, there's a sort of therapy in feeling gross in his afterglow. Atsumu goes to wrap his arm around Kiyoomi’s waist, quickly recoils, and simply aims the embrace a little higher. 

The near silence is a comfortable one, and Kiyoomi can see Atsumu's mind visibly working even as he tangles his finger in the sparse, curly hair littered across his chest. "So, Omi-omi, I never did get th' story of how ya came t' be known as th' Skinner." Atsumu's voice drawls even more, dropping more vowels in his fucked out bliss. 

Kiyoomi laughs humourlessly. "I was dealing with a band of botchlings in Lyria, about a hundred years back? But I was working off some faulty information." The happiness of the moment retreats with the force of the bad memory. "You see, while botchlings do go after pregnant women, all they need to be neutralized is to be named and buried properly. It's detective work at best." He suppresses a shudder before he continues. "I was new, and was told they replaced the healthy baby. I was caught, and you know how a story takes on a life of its own." 

He hears Atsumu raise his eyebrows rather than sees it. "A hundred years? Wow, tha's impressive."

He groans as he rolls his eyes. "The fallout from that was still miles better than after Cidaris. Lyria just left me poor and out of work for a bit. Cidaris plagues me with nightmares to this day." 

Atsumu sits upwards with a start at the mention of Cidaris. "You were there?" The worried look on his face makes Kiyoomi want to smack himself on his forehead as he makes the connection. Just as he's haunted by the sights of a city dying by force, Atsumu's face screams staying strong amid the uncertainty of knowing the fate of his loved ones.

Atsumu slumps. "Ya prob'ly wouldn't know, but I haven't heard from my brother since it happened." 

Kiyoomi's blood turns to ice in his veins. "You have a brother? Tell me about him." It's dual-purposed; Atsumu may get some closure and Kiyoomi has a chance at solving the mystery of Not-Atsumu. 

"Well," Atsumu begins, getting into storyteller mode, "he was my twin. An easy partner in crime, and made for some excellent musical acts when we were young." He stops as his face grows serious. "We hadda fight shortly before I went tourin' and 'Samu went on to his food stall? I just don't want that ta be the last thing I say ta him." 

Kiyoomi tries to keep his face impassive despite the rising panic. "So. Twins." 

Atsumu punches him in the side. "Stop yer thinkin' like that. It's bad enough we look so much alike tha' I know what my brother looks like naked." He visibly shudders at the thought. 

Kiyoomi scrambles backwards, practically climbing up the headboard. "He looks exactly like you?" His face falls at how Atsumu's face transforms from pure confusion to heartbreak before Kiyoomi's eyes. "When you found me yesterday, I hoped seeing you being burned alive in front of me was just a bad dream." 

There's a pause, and by the time the silence turns to the right side of uncomfortable, Atsumu wordlessly shuffles across the bottom of the bed, and begins to get dressed. His face is pinched in the unmistakable grimace of holding back tears, and it breaks Kiyoomi's heart to watch him crumble before his eyes. He goes to stand up, hopefully to take the bard in a hug, but he's stopped by Atsumu's hand signaling him to stay on the bed. He gathers the rest of his things and walks out the door as silently as he rises from the bed. 

For all the times that Kiyoomi wished that Atsumu would shut his mouth and stay silent, he never wanted it to come to this. 

The room has been empty for at least ten minutes before Kiyoomi musters the courage to get up himself. He finds a small hole in the sheets and loses himself to the vortex of time as he tries to parse what in the ever-living fuck has just happened, and why his chest hurts more than a striga clawing at it. 

Mindlessly, Kiyoomi puts on his clothing, not bothering to wash the remnants of their time together from his stomach as he gathers his belongings. He places a bag of coin on the barkeep's counter as he stumbles outside towards the stable in order to retrieve Komori. The northeast winds are calling his name, and the suicide mission called Reclaiming Kaer Morhen sounds like it'll be a nice release from whatever hell he's brought onto himself. 

With a kick to Komori's side, they gallop away, hopefully to a new home away from people and all their problems. 


	4. Encounter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyoomi settles down in Kaer Morhen with his protégé, and his past comes to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I started this back in March, it feels like it's been the longest 8 months ever. Wow. But it's done, and I know I'm going to come back to this AU later. I have a pairing, just not a plot for how I move forward.

Kiyoomi wakes up to the early morning sun shining through his bedroom window. He's a little bit grumpy at the intrusion of the bright light, but when he rises, he will thank himself later for not wasting the day. He quickly throws the covers back over his bed as he gets up to do his chores. 

His routine is interrupted by the rhythmic sound of wood slashing wood, and Kiyoomi sighs at the sound. It means that Shouyou is practicing without his guidance,  _ again _ , and that means potentially far more work to undo whatever bad habits he's reinforcing in his eagerness to learn. 

His trek through the dilapidated castle takes a little more care than he would like, but Kiyoomi reminds himself that he has a relatively safe place to call home, a bathtub he can fill at any point, and a training ground that means he can stay fit without having to be around too many magical creatures. There's something lacking in the environment, and it's not just walls in good repair; he's missing a sense of home. Even taking on Shouyou, a wayward prince eager to learn the ins and outs of being a Witcher, can't fully plug that hole. 

He remembers waking up in an inn, entangled in another's limbs while smelling hair reminding him of lye and lemons, and Kiyoomi forces down a pang of loneliness. He's had years of practice cultivating this reflex; it's been that long since he fucked up and drove Atsumu away for good. 

Still, the bard hasn't stopped singing of his exploits, even if he's not writing anything new about him. It's dead easy to get a job, even in this isolated valley a half day's ride from the capital city of Kaedwen, even if he never leaves said kingdom. Life is still rough, but compared to living in his saddle and searching for the next cheap inn, a run-down castle is more to Kiyoomi's taste. 

He picks up two slightly stale rolls from the night before from a bowl covered by a cloth, and heads outside to the extensive training ground. The sun is shining brightly, and Shouyou is swinging with both swords at a moving target along the agility course. Kiyoomi hates to admit out loud that Shouyou's speed and balance even before his mutations rivals that of a seasoned Witcher, and he has a hunch that it will become his strength similar to how Kiyoomi's mutations stabilized his natural flexibility. 

"Your offhand is dragging compared to your main hand." It's been a while since Kiyoomi last used this particular fighting style, but his enhanced eyes pick out every flaw. The delay is only a slight one, something that even a regular blade master would have to squint to pick out. 

Shouyou stops his barrage, and even though his shoulders slump in disappointment momentarily, he rolls his shoulders to prepare to move back into fighting position. Kiyoomi swings the target from his position on the ground, and a quick push with Aard later, he sends it careening in a way that is less predictable. This time, Shouyou's form is perfect, and Kiyoomi can't find anything to nitpick, opting to stay silent. He's nearly ready for Keiji to perform the nearly forgotten rituals to turn him into a Witcher. 

Shouyou beams as he jumps off the apparatus, taking Kiyoomi's silence as the highest compliment. He puts the training swords back onto the rack near the device, before turning back to catch the roll Kiyoomi tosses in his direction. "Bean planting season is coming soon, and we don't have enough seeds to hold us over the winter." 

Shouyou, despite having permission from his adoptive father, is perceived by the public as a runaway princeling. With his vibrantly coloured hair and high status, it's too conspicuous to repeatedly go into the same towns and the same shops, so it's really up to Kiyoomi to retrieve the supplies the pair can't forage in the valley. 

"You know what else would help us get through winter? Starting to clear up the east wing." That section of the building had a collapsed roof and sizable holes in the stone walls, but couldn't be repaired until rubble was moved out of the way. Shouyou had also been deliberately avoiding the area, to the point it became an inside joke. 

Shouyou snorts and makes his way back into the castle, chewing on his roll as he walked. He's able to take a hint once in a while. 

Kiyoomi turns toward the paddock, where Komori and Horse, Shouyou's mount, graze side by side. He lets out a loud whistle, and holds the apple in his hand above his head, even as he hides the halter and lead line behind his back. Komori lifts his head and immediately gallops in Kiyoomi's direction to retrieve his treat. Horse, much like his master, is brave but not especially smart, and stays across the field. 

Komori's training shines through, and he skids to a stop before he can barrel into Kiyoomi. The Witcher holds out his hand flat, lets the horse eat the apple whole. While Komori is content on chewing, he quickly slips the leather halter onto his head, and fastens it into place. "Come on, we need to go get supplies, lazy ass." 

Komori struggles a bit at the lead, but a sharp tug from Kiyoomi sets him right very quickly. He laughs, but it's with fondness; the memories of living on the road and forcing them to live in the saddle are still relatively fresh on his mind, and it's nice to be able to give him a good life after struggling for so long. 

Getting Komori back into his saddle is a task and a half, because the girth strapping the piece of leather to his back had seemingly shrunk, and it takes more of Kiyoomi’s strength than he really wants to exert to make it so that it can buckle even on its last holes. 

"You're too fucking fat," Kiyoomi grouses, and he gives a final tug and buckles it in place. Komori whips his head around to nip at Kiyoomi for the insult. 

With the saddle in place, he kicks Komori into action. The beginning of the trail to Ard Carraigh is rough, only suitable to move forward at a walk, but the trees thin, and Kiyoomi smiles at the wide open space. It barely takes a touch before Komori canters; the capital city is a frequent enough trip that the horse knows the way automatically. 

It's exhilarating to feel the air whip through his hair once more. Kiyoomi no longer has the paradoxically practical long hair that made sense when he had no permanent home, but the shorter curls perched on top of his head still catch the wind enough to remind him of his relative freedom. 

The ride itself takes several hours, but he slows Komori into a walk to head to his favourite inn. It's located at just the right distance from the edge of the city to be able to avoid going too far into the city core, while still being close to the market so that he can get the harder to procure supplies.

Just like the old days, when Kiyoomi enters the Blackened Crow, any commotion in the common room screeches to a halt and everyone looks in his direction. Unlike the times he spent in other cities, there's a lukewarm welcome amidst the small crowd, and the pause is barely long enough to be notable, and the background music never breaks. One of the rowdier tavern-goers, a bald man roughly Shouyou's age, lifts a tankard in Kiyoomi's direction in salute, and his shorter companion shouts his greeting at an ear-splitting volume towards the Witcher. 

He walks over to the barkeep. "The usual, Daichi." Kiyoomi comes back to this specific inn because he's treated well, and the owner knows and respects his personal preferences. 

Daichi hands him a key, and smiles. “Just let me know when you’re ready for food.”

Kiyoomi takes a familiar route to go to his usual room by bypassing the nook where Daichi has all the travelling bards perform. It’s the second thing that makes this particular inn a favourite of his, especially on the nights that whatever bard is in has a voice very close to Atsumu’s. He’s especially thankful for the escape as tonight’s performance is the closest to his memories yet: this bard even has a faint Cidarian accent.

With his gear safely stowed, Kiyoomi checks over his room, and as usual, finds it to his satisfaction. Daichi and Suga do a wonderful job to make the Blackened Crow an inviting place to stay. Additionally, his schedule to retrieve supplies must be predictable, because he doesn't have to fetch the kettle for a bath. Kiyoomi is a creature of habit at his core, and it cheers him up to find out when others notice too. 

Kiyoomi's stomach growls, and that's his signal to return to the common room. The bard is singing about love found at a royal party, and the lyrics turn his thoughts to Atsumu, of Temeria, and finally of Redania. When Suga comes with his food, the best greeting he can give is a wan smile. 

Normally, Kiyoomi would watch Suga entertain himself by pranking Daichi as he worked, but there's something about the bard's voice that tears his attention from an otherwise comforting routine. From his vantage point in the common room, Kiyoomi can now see where the bard is set up to play, and the colour drains from his face when he sees the performer's face. The spoon falls from his hand, and the stew muffles the clattering of the spoon even as he makes a mess with his food. 

"Fuck." 

The entire room, including Atsumu, stares at him after his exclamation, making Kiyoomi realize that it was probably far louder than he had intended. His appetite vanishes as quickly as the music dissipates. Even though the activity in the inn resumes its normal bustle, Atsumu stands there, still frozen in place. 

Atsumu looks very different from the last time they had seen each other, and that half decade had not been the kindest. There's a furrow in his brow to go along with some crows feet along his eyes, and his hair has softened to a buttery yellow. Even his scent has changed, as somewhere along the way, he had picked up a faint hint of elderberries in addition to his normal citrus. His face hardens into something nearly unrecognizable when their gazes meet--in fact, if Kiyoomi hadn't heard him singing, it's likely he wouldn't have recognized the man in front of him.

The moment passes, Kiyoomi picks up his bowl, and tips the entirety of its contents into his mouth in only a few bites. It’s a trick he’s seen Shouyou perform many times after a long day of reclaiming the castle: just because he was raised as a noble, does not mean the prince is particularly refined outside of Temerian court. Kiyoomi escapes to his room as quickly as possible, cheeks distended like a chipmunk, and locks the door behind him.

When he finally swallows the last of his meal, Kiyoomi sinks down against the doorway and cradles his head in his hands. The faint sounds of the common room still haven’t resumed with Atsumu’s music, and the soft footfalls of someone carefully approaching the inn’s rooms overwhelms Kiyoomi’s ability to discern the specifics of the bustling room. Judging by the care and finesse given to each step, Kiyoomi guesses that it is Atsumu approaching his room, he readies himself to ignore the impending knock on the door. Only, it never comes, and the footsteps retreat with the same level of care. 

The bath that he pours isn't a balm on Kiyoomi's mind like it normally is after a day of riding. Instead, he stews in his own emotions, even as he regrets his own quick eating to escape the worst of them. 

Morning comes with his list of goods to buy at the marketplace. When Kiyoomi goes to unhitch Komori to lead him through the marketplace, he's met with Atsumu feeding Komori candies. 

"You know, he's on a diet." Kiyoomi tries his best to glare at Atsumu, but the years have changed the bard in ways that he can't fully explain. 

Atsumu's answering smirk is familiar at least. "And it looks like it's workin'." He pats Komori's rotund belly. 

Kiyoomi snorts out a laugh despite himself, and he takes the reins in hand in order to lead the horse away. He rifles through the packs to make sure they're secure, and moves towards the market. 

There's a huge sense of déjà vu as Atsumu follows him, uninvited, through the Kaedwenian city, chattering about merchants' wares, the heat of the late spring sun, how his own horse would probably get along with Komori. He can't face Atsumu directly or answer in anything more than non-committal grunts, for fear that he'll betray himself and break down in the middle of the square. 

With his shopping done and Komori's saddle bags full, Kiyoomi makes his way back towards the Blackened Crow. 

"Well, I'm off." Kiyoomi purposefully leaves his goodbye succinct to hide the crack that threatens to invade his voice. 

Atsumu's eyes widen to comical proportions. "Ya can't just leave!" He speaks too loudly to be strictly appropriate. He realizes his volume, and adds, "Can ya at least take me with you?"

This time, Kiyoomi shows some restraint, and curses inwardly. 

* * *

On his way back to Kaer Morhen, Kiyoomi continually questions his single moment of weakness. He'd agreed to let Atsumu follow him back to the castle on three conditions: he'd be blindfolded for the entire trip for Kiyoomi's safety, he'd stay until the next supply run, and that he'd work any task until that time. Now, Kiyoomi fights off a headache, because Atsumu won't shut his mouth, chattering away instead. 

It's déjà vu in a different way, as it feels like they're off to be captured by Tendou and the elves again, except this time, Atsumu has his own horse to ride instead of following on foot. Pansy, Atsumu's mare, shows herself to be just as much of a shit-head as her owner, and Kiyoomi notes the edges of a curb bit attached to the reins he's holding in his left hand. Not that Komori is that much better: Kiyoomi had to switch out the hackamore for a mullen snaffle bit after that time that he took off when in sight of the castle.

It's only because Atsumu is blindfolded that Kiyoomi allows himself a small smile, and intermittently inserts grunts of agreement when appropriate. Even though it's unsafe to ride at more than a walk, the extended riding time is comfortable in its own way. Finally, Kiyoomi reaches the difficult forest path, and stops them both. 

"You can take off your blindfold, you're going to need to see for the next part." Kiyoomi hands back the reins before he sets off into the woods. 

Atsumu is silent as he works at not getting unseated by low hanging branches, but it's not far before the view clears as they go over the rise. The castle itself is nestled nicely in a hollow between the mountains, and the trees surrounding it have burst in the brilliant shades of green that only come after the leaves have freshly emerged out of their buds. The meadow is just beginning to flower, but isn’t at its height: another week and it will be filled with purples and blues. Kiyoomi dreamed of this particular view in the years after the revolt, and it's the same one as the one he shared with not-Atsumu in his nightmares after Cidaris. Atsumu clearly thinks it’s wonderful as well--he gasps, and Kiyoomi turns around to find him filled with wonder and delight, and smiles back.

To watch Atsumu gaze upon his work with open awe puts Kiyoomi’s efforts in perspective. It's still a rundown castle, but the Kaer Morhen valley is a wonder in its own right, and every feeling of 'home' in Kiyoomi's body leads here. 

At the stable, Kiyoomi untacks Komori, gives him a quick brush down, and is let loose into the paddock where Horse is grazing. "You may want to keep your mare in here. Komori isn't gelded, and while he's friendly, she doesn't know either of them well." Atsumu silently agrees, and hitches her into a box stall.

Kiyoomi wishes that his triumphant return with Atsumu would be to a castle in good repair, but life often has other plans. 

Atsumu is ushered to a plain, empty room in the west wing. It's one of the better ones that's available at that moment: all the walls are intact, and the ceiling doesn't leak. The fact that it is next door to Kiyoomi's own quarters or that it's far away from where has Shouyou cleared a spot for himself in the central hall is irrelevant: there are very few places in the castle not in need of repair. 

Atsumu doesn't complain much about the work that needs to be done, as long as it's near Kiyoomi. He's even mostly silent about it, or more precisely, Atsumu's form of silent. Sounds still escape from his mouth, but it's a never-ending stream of inconsequential bullshit, nothing of the truth on why he's actually there or what caused his outburst in town. 

The one new constant in these non-conversations is the smell of fear rolling off Atsumu whenever Kiyoomi turns his back. It's not on purpose, but more that is an inevitable event as they work to clear one of the larger, central hall rooms. When Kiyoomi spins around to investigate, Atsumu quickly turns away, filling the air with his bullshit. 

It's enough that Shouyou, who normally eats his food like it was sprinting away from him and the only way to stop it was to shove it in his mouth just as quickly, slows down his eating so that he doesn’t miss any piece of the action, and ends up having more food on his plate than even slow-eating Kiyoomi. 

It’s nearly three weeks of frustration at the lack of actual conversation before Kiyoomi breaks. After the fifteenth spike of Atsumu's particularly putrid smelling version of fear just that day, Kiyoomi drops his stone, and turns towards Atsumu. 

"Out with it." Kiyoomi glares at Atsumu. "You've been afraid and I'm tired of smelling it."

In uncharacteristic Atsumu fashion, he stays silent. Instead, he picks up a piece of rubble from near the outside wall and hefts it up into his arms. 

Kiyoomi lifts his eyebrows, staring at Atsumu expectantly. It's a trick he's learned from dealing with Shouyou sneaking around to train with the wooden swords rather than rebuild the castle. If there's any point where using his 'creepy stare that gets into your soul' (Shouyou's words, not his), then now is the perfect time. 

Atsumu shifts under the gaze, and he drops the stone he'd lifted. "I thought you died," he says, defeated. Kiyoomi's enhanced hearing is the only thing that makes Atsumu's mumbling anywhere near intelligible. 

Kiyoomi sits down on his own stone he had just dropped. "I meant to." 

Time appears to stop at Kiyoomi's response, and there are very few indications that it was actually moving forward. The ache in his arms from the manual labour reminds Kiyoomi that he's not in some warped dream of reconciliation, but it's the silence across the room that throws him off the most. When he looks over at Atsumu, it's to see him frozen in place, and it immediately sets him on edge. It's uncanny, it's close enough to how he looked right before he left that room in Redania that Kiyoomi braces for a fight or to at least chase after Atsumu as he runs away. 

Atsumu doesn't move, but the silence is uncomfortable enough that even Kiyoomi, a man of many glares and very few words, wants to drown it out with anything he can come up with. "After the revolt that killed most of the Witchers, a nest of griffons took up residence here. One griffon can be tricky enough, but ten plus an arch griffon?" Kiyoomi lets out a dark laugh. "At least I would have given my death a purpose." 

Whatever trance had been holding Atsumu in place broke at Kiyoomi's confession, and he crosses the room in a few long strides to wrap him in a hug. "I'm so glad you aren't dead." Atsumu is sweaty and sticky from the heavy lifting, but still smells sweet, of lye, lemons, and elderberries. 

For the first time in a century, something in Kiyoomi's life felt absolutely  _ right _ . 

He can't help himself really, and he takes Atsumu's cheeks between both his hands, and pulls the bard into a kiss. Atsumu lets out a surprised sound, but it doesn't take much for him to react and lift and push Kiyoomi against the wall he was rebuilding not long before. It's muscle memory, really, and his body reacts as eagerly. 

Just as he slips his hands into Atsumu's breeches to grab his ass to better rut against him, Shouyou shows up. "Kiyoomi, I finished--" Whatever he was about to say gets dropped at the tableau in front of him, as both Kiyoomi and Atsumu stare at him. "You know, I think the east wing could do with more clearing." 

Atsumu is the first to break the silence, well after Shouyou leaves the room, giggling into Kiyoomi's shoulder. "You know, that kid is going to be scarred for life now." 

Kiyoomi snorts, and he smiles into Atsumu's hair. "That kid is twenty five, is nearly done his Witcher training, and grew up with King Koutarou and his sorcerer." 

This garners a full on laugh, as it's an open secret that the Temerian King is hopelessly devoted to Keiji, and are  _ very _ affectionate with each other. 

He peels himself away from Atsumu, and Kiyoomi reaches out his hand in order to lead him back to his room. 

It's not the rushed trip through the Temerian castle from when Atsumu was a little shit and riled him up in the bath, but it's still at a determined pace. Still, Atsumu only complains a little bit when Kiyoomi makes a slight detour to the kitchen for some oil. 

Just after Kiyoomi pulls Atsumu through his bedroom door, Atsumu kicks the door closed behind them, and pushes Kiyoomi backwards towards the bed. Even with Kiyoomi's normally graceful movements, Atsumu leaves him just off balance so that by the time his calves meet the edge of the bed, Kiyoomi falls backwards onto it. This is far from being a negative experience, because Atsumu is there, right away, straddling him.

Atsumu leans forward, grabbing the bottle of oil from Kiyoomi’s hand, who takes the momentary distraction to lift the shirt from the breeches and begins to unbutton it. Atsumu's body had softened slightly in the years they had spent apart, but as Kiyoomi runs his hands across the newly exposed skin, he decides that this is better than before. 

Just as Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu's shirt to the ground, Atsumu's hands find their way into his, and Atsumu isn't being gentle about it. He's not being patient either: Atsumu hops off Kiyoomi's and steps out of his breeches. Before he retakes his position on Kiyoomi's lap, he opens Kiyoomi's, freeing the erection he finds within. 

Kiyoomi doesn't care that he's still half dressed, not when he's got a naked Atsumu filling all his senses at once. He groans at the friction of Atsumu's cock sliding against his, at once not enough and too much. After a small amount of indecision about where to place his hands, Kiyoomi finally decides to pull Atsumu closer to him by curling his fingernails across his back. 

Atsumu clearly has other plans: he takes Kiyoomi's hand off his back, and instead, he grabs for the bottle of oil and drizzles some over Kiyoomi's fingers. It doesn't matter that oil gets all over his sheets, but it spurs Kiyoomi from his temporary paralysis, and he reaches for Atsumu's hole. It's clear that Kiyoomi is playing into exactly what Atsumu wants, because Atsumu lifts himself just far enough off Kiyoomi's lap that he can spread Atsumu’s cheeks and massage between them.

Kiyoomi tries to take his time, but no sooner do his fingers enter Atsumu when he pushes down and opens up in his grip. He’s no longer under the delusion that he’s in control of this situation--Atsumu takes Kiyoomi in hand and lines up the cock to his entrance.

It has to be more than slightly uncomfortable as Atsumu descends on Kiyoomi’s cock, but there’s nothing in Kiyoomi’s movements to make the bard go faster than he wanted: this is all Atsumu’s doing. He’s nearly as deadly as the flock of griffons that Kiyoomi had slaughtered to regain his home, and it takes everything within Kiyoomi to grasp at Atsumu’s back until it bleeds rather than rock up into him before he’s ready.

Just as Atsumu’s thighs make contact with Kiyoomi’s own, he pauses and lifts Kiyoomi’s chin so that he can look deeply into Kiyoomi’s eyes. “Missed me, didn’t ya?”

Kiyoomi’s response is just to thrust upwards sharply, which elicits a hitch in Atsumu’s heavy breathing. He wants to flip Atsumu over, but Kiyoomi is pushed backwards onto the bed, until Atsumu is fully riding him, his hand firmly on Kiyoomi’s chest to keep him in place as his other hand strokes himself. The few articles of clothing still on Kiyoomi keep him tangled so that he can't turn advantage against Atsumu without ruining one of his few outfits. 

It’s not like Atsumu has him pinned in such a way that Kiyoomi can’t move--if he really wanted, Kiyoomi could flip over Atsumu without a second thought. But with Atsumu moving at a punishing pace above him, it takes everything within Kiyoomi to grab on to the small bit of extra skin at Atsumu’s sides than were there for their last encounter. Atsumu lets out a moan, and he pushes down on his chest for more leverage.

With a little bit of willpower, Kiyoomi takes one of his hands from Atsumu’s side, wraps it around the hand stroking himself, and brings it to his mouth. Atsumu whines at Kiyoomi’s tongue lapping around his digits, and he’s held spellbound by the sight.

Atsumu’s fingers taste like salt, sweat and dust, and in the excitement about their proper reunion, Kiyoomi had forgotten about clearing the rubble. He moves to forget about it, and it’s made easier by the flush on Atsumu’s face steadily trailing downwards at the show he’s putting on. 

At the sight of Kiyoomi's tongue poking through the spaces between his fingers, Atsumu keens as he clenches around his cock. That added pressure is almost enough to throw Kiyoomi over the edge, but he fights back by thrusting upwards sharply. 

It's just enough that Atsumu comes with a loud groan, and Kiyoomi follows with a handful of jagged thrusts. He pauses as he rests his cheek against Atsumu's chest, and he smiles into the coarse hair littering the broad expanse. 

With a squelch and a shudder, Atsumu detaches himself from Kiyoomi’s lap. He moves towards the washbasin, but Kiyoomi stops him before he can get too far. Instead, he's pulled back onto the bed. 

"Sleep now, wash later." 

Atsumu doesn't really resist--it may be his cum, but it's not drying over his own stomach--and instead curls up against Kiyoomi as they doze off together. 

* * *

It only takes a couple more weeks for the three of them to run out of supplies. Kiyoomi had been able to stretch this length of time when it had just been himself and Shouyou, but with the addition of Atsumu to the mix, and his inability to ration anything, it forces a more frequent trip than normal. However, this trip isn’t just to replenish food supplies: Kiyoomi has a larger plan: Shouyou is ready to undergo his mutations, and return to Temeria.

“Shouyou, make sure you tack up Horse properly.”

Kiyoomi does his gear check, and Shouyou bounces along as he finishes his own. 

No sooner does Shouyou lead Horse away, but Atsumu arrives on Pansy just as Kiyoomi finishes his struggle to put on Komori's girth. 

"He really is too fat." Atsumu laughs at Kiyoomi as he finally succeeds in reaching the last hole on the girth. 

Kiyoomi hops into his saddle, and Shouyou's already started trotting up the hill, eager to get going. Atsumu pulls Pansy so that she is shoulder to shoulder with Komori. 

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Atsumu looks expectantly over at Kiyoomi. 

As he looks over at Atsumu's face, it's clear that he's expecting to be blindfolded again. "As long as you don't write about how to find this place, I don't see a problem with you knowing the way. Besides,--" Kiyoomi shuffles in his saddle and cues Komori into a walk-- "Having you come around more often might be a good thing." 

Kiyoomi is halfway across the meadow by the time Atsumu catches up. "You'd really trust me with your super-secret base?" 

He stops, waits for Atsumu to do the same, and leans in conspiratorially. "I know all the spots to make a man beg for their life on their knees. Just remember that if you reveal where I am." 

Atsumu's eyes light up. "You definitely do, I'll give you that." 

Shouyou calls out from the edge of the wood. "Come on, stop trying to get into each other's pants and let's get going." 

Atsumu canters forward, and Kiyoomi follows, but it's without the sense of finality that permeated all their other encounters. Instead, Kiyoomi smiles as he leaves his home behind, content. 


End file.
